


Softness

by Dubiousculturalartifact (222Ravens)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, purest of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 20:03:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9200228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/222Ravens/pseuds/Dubiousculturalartifact
Summary: mornings in the Resistance





	

A slow sort of morning, as the sun filters through the little window of their shared room.

 

Enough time for them to sleep late enough for that, in these days of reprieve between things. Perhaps, perhaps more sorrow will come, later. Perhaps they have so little time, and should be rushing headlong into the fray, not letting it come to them. Fighting until they have burned out in the fire of it all, giving their lives for the cause. Never rest. Never slow. Run, and fight, until you can’t, and you become dust. Hard armour, a shell around which nothing else exists.

 

That’s what he had known, before. All he had ever known.

 

But where Finn has perhaps learned the most from his time in the Resistance, it is in these quiet moments. The moments of remembering living. The moments of remembering _why_ one must fight. Why one must live. For these days, these moments. For tomorrows like them.

 

For the softness of the morning light, in a tiny room, on a little base, on a small moon, in a wide galaxy. A pocket of life, of hope, of joy, treasured for the way that it may be fleeting, and protected so that it may last, as long as possible.

 

The softness of warm breath on his neck, and a warm body curled up against his. The casualness of it, the trust. Of falling asleep with another person, and waking up to them, just for the joy of it. For no reason at all, beyond _wanting_.

 

The softness of Poe’s face, in sleep. The worry and weight of war smoothed away, just for a moment, just for this little bit of time. The kind of softness that Finn has to touch, just to remind himself that it’s genuinely real. That this is something he gets to have.

 

Sometimes, he’s afraid. He’s afraid that this isn’t what he deserves. Or that he doesn’t know how their story will end. That he doesn’t know if they will win, or what, in the end, that will mean. Or that he could lose this, so easily. All of it. That it’s just a dream, and he hasn’t woken up, not really.

 

But then Poe sighs in his sleep, nuzzles his jaw against Finn’s broad caress, and Finn knows. The same way he _knows_ things, sometimes. Whether that’s the Force, or instincts, or pure and simple _hope_ , he knows.

 

It’s worth it. Everything he has been through, is worth this moment. He deserves this, and everything he will do, is for the quiet softness of moments like this one.

 

The softness with which Poe wakes, slowly, and the softness of his eyes, as he looks, and the small, precious sort of smile.

 

The quiet with which Finn leans down, and kisses him. Murmurs ‘ _I love you so much’_ , into the quiet softness of the morning light.

 

The galaxy can wait a little while.


End file.
